The Second Sunday in June
by LittleRedHatRocks
Summary: Marsupilami finds a stressed-out Spip working on a Father's Day present for his Papa. But who exactly is the gift for, and what makes it so important? An alternative origin story for Spip.


"_Hou... houba... m'enfin?"_

A constant, high-pitched squeaking stirred the Marsupilami out of his afternoon nap. Uncurling himself as he lay upon the plush sofa in the Brussels apartment – his tail dangling all over the furniture like leftover Christmas tinsel – he raised an ear to examine the unnerving sound more closely, casting his eyes around him.

The lounge was empty except for himself. His two caretakers, the redhead and the blond, had left earlier: they'd gone on some errand or other, presumably close by, as a quick glance out of the window revealed the Turbotraction was still parked in the driveway. Perhaps they had simply wanted to take a walk in the glorious June sunlight?

Still, the squeaking persisted. If it wasn't those two, then who could it be?

_Houba! An invader!_

It wasn't that unlikely a scenario. From Marsu's observations, the pair seemed to get into trouble wherever they went: even a vacation could turn into a adventure. This time, it seemed that danger had concealed itself a little closer to home – waiting for the ideal opportunity to strike at their very heart. At their homestead.

Balling up his tail into a strong, solid sphere, Marsu crept forward on his paws towards the noise. It brought him to the door of the nest room that belonged to the redhead.

Rearing back, Marsu dashed forward with a large battle-cry: the door flying back on its hinges as a yellow and black whirlwind blew through it. Over on the desk, a little Eurasian squirrel screamed in terror – throwing himself in front of some misshapen item he was holding in his paws, desperately trying to protect it.

"Marsupilami!" he snapped, outraged. "What the heck are you doing?"

As the shriek pierced his ears, Marsu slid to a unsteady halt - falling to the floor with a blunt thud, a tangle of tail and limbs.

"Spip!" he gasped as he rose, venturing sheepishly towards the desk. "_Houba!_ I'm so sorry – I thought you'd gone out with the other two."

"No – I stayed behind. I wanted to work on something, but... but it's _all gone wrong!_"

The squeaking resumed. Much to Marsu's concern, the noises he had heard were the sorrowful tears of the squirrel.

"Let me see it," Marsu suggested kindly – tenderly draping his tail around the squirrel's shoulders in support. "Maybe we can fix it together?"

"You'll laugh at me."

"_Houba!_" Marsu scoffed. "No, I won't! Come on – show me."

Sighing, Spip stood up, uncovering his project.

It was a blobbish, haphazard and vaguely rounded artefact made from grey clay: an uneven opening dug into it. Around its edges, various odds and ends had been pushed into the clay as decoration – buttons, acorns, bird feathers and hazelnut shells.

Keen not to hurt his friend's feelings, Marsu desperately stifled a chuckle.

"What... what exactly is it?" he asked Spip, once he had composed himself sufficiently.

"It's meant to be a vase," the squirrel whimpered. "Or a pot, or a dish, or... well, _something_. But it all went out of shape."

"_Houba_," murmured Marsu flatly, understanding.

It never failed to amaze Spip how a change of inflection could give one word so many meanings.

"Well... the decorations are nice," Marsu added.

That was a blatant lie, and the jungle creature sensed that the squirrel knew it. Still, perhaps for both of their sakes, he accepted the compliment.

"They're all things I found outside," he explained. "I've been collecting them especially, just so I could make this present."

"Present?" Marsu asked.

"For this Sunday. It's _Fête des Pères_, so I wanted to make a gift for Papa."

"_Houba!_ I had no idea you had a Papa!"

As Spip looked at him blankly, Marsu knew right away that he had committed some kind of_ faux pas._

"What?" he asked, innocent in his ignorance.

"Marsu, he _lives _with us," Spip replied, as though explaining a simple fact to an infant.

"Does he?" Marsu went on, genuinely surprised. "I've never seen him."

"_Rogtudju!_" Spip snapped back, irritated. "You see him every day!"

"But... but no-one here is called "Papa"!"

"Only I call him "Papa"!" Everyone else calls him "Spirou"!"

Marsu froze, his mind racing. Surely he didn't mean – the redhead Spirou? One of his caretakers? It... it just didn't seem possible. He was far from an expert on the subject of mating and offspring, but he had a smattering of knowledge from his life in Palombia, back when he was amongst others of his kind.

Spirou looked nothing like Spip. For starters, he was far too tall - a giant, really, by comparison. Spirou only had little bits of red fur here and there, but Spip had reddish-brown fur all over. There was no resemblance whatsoever.

And, if Spirou was Spip's Papa, who was his Maman? The other caretaker, the funny blond one, was male too. Maybe it was the other blonde he'd seen now and again - the lady? "The glue lady", as the other male called her. But if that was the case, why didn't they share a nest? It made little sense to him.

Maybe things were different for Spirou's species, and the mates didn't stay together long. Maybe it's the males who have babies. Maybe Spirou laid an egg sometime, like the Marsupilamies do.

In any case, there were several questions that had to be answered.

As a pause hung heavy in the air, Spip could sense his companion's confusion.

"Look," he continued in calmer tones. "I know what you're thinking. And to be honest… I'm starting to suspect that... that I was adopted."

He stifled another sob as the Marsupilami's eyes widened.

"Oh – I see."

"But please, don't say anything to Papa!" the squirrel pleaded. "I don't want him to get upset."

"_Houba! _Don't worry - I won't."

"You see, Marsu... he's been my Papa for as long as I can remember..."

* * *

Lightning crackled as a torrent of rain struck against the windows of the Hotel Moustique. In a small downstairs room behind the kitchens, away from the patrons' snobbish gazes, a red-headed bellboy placed a wooden box down in front of a stove, kneeling over it like a mother watching over a cradle.

Within, cocooned in soft fluffy blankets, a tiny rodent, only days old, shivered and squeaked as it felt the welcome heat piercing through its fur to its frozen bones. Its little mouth formed an "O" shape as a pipette was placed between its lips – little squirts of nourishing milk being fed to it at a steady pace.

With great effort, the creature's eyelids slowly creaked open, and it cast its gaze upwards onto a hazy scene. Colours swirled all around him momentarily, but quickly settled, revealing the smiling face of his savour.

"Hello there, Spip," the figure whispered kindly. "Do you like that name? "Spip"?"

The creature, still weakened – but now blessed with a chance of survival – was unable to respond. However, the uplifting feeling now growing in his tiny heart made it clear to himself that he did.

"I found you outside," the stranger explained. "You were on the pavement in the rain, all by yourself. Your mother was..."

He paused, hesitating.

"Your mother was gone," he said, as delicately as he could muster. "But it's all right._ I'm_ going to look after you now."

Reaching out with a fingertip, he gently stroked the squirrel's head, and smiled.

"After all, we are both Spirous."

* * *

"So you see, Marsu?" Spip asked his friend, once his tale was concluded. "He said it himself. We are both Spirous. That makes us family. And he raised me, so that makes him my Papa."

"It's a wonderful story," Marsu agreed. "_Houba!_ It's clear that he loves you, and that he did so right from the start."

"And I love him too," Spip said proudly. "I try to show that love by being loyal to him, going with him on each of his adventures. Yes, sometimes Papa and Uncle -"

"Uncle?"

"Uncle Fantasio. The blond one."

"_Houba!_ Of course."

"Sometimes they do silly things on their journeys, or Papa frustrates me, or I make jokes about him, but that doesn't mean I love him any less."

"Of course not."

"And I really wanted to make him a nice present for _Fête des Pères_," Spip went on, the sobs returning. "Just to show how much I love him, but I... I can't even do it right!"

"Hush! There's still time."

"Not really, Marsu. You see, Papa will be back soon, and then - "

Like a Hollywood actor hearing their cue, Spip and Marsu gasped in alarm as the bedroom door opened, and the much-discussed Spirou entered, grinning at the two animals in greeting. As Marsu rushed up to the former bellboy, pouncing at him to provide a distraction, Spip hurriedly stepped in front of his creation – rising to his full height, arms and tail outstretched, in order to conceal it.

"Calm down, Marsu!" Spirou laughed, waving his hands at the excitable yellow and black-dotted jungle mammal. "I'm happy to see you, too."

Gently, he pushed the Marsupilami to one side, clearing a path so he could approach the desk. Marsu pulled at his arms and shoulders with his tail, but the redhead just shrugged it off again and again, until eventually, he lost patience. He called for Fantasio, and the blond entered the room at once: scooping the excitable creature into his arms like a baby, and carrying him out, promising him treats if he behaved.

As Marsu cast a helpless glance at Spip over Fantasio's shoulder, his little friend nodded back in acknowledgement, grateful for his efforts.

"What have you got there, Spip?" Spirou asked the squirrel, intrigued, trying to peek behind him. "You're not hiding something from me, are you?"

As Spip looked up into his Papa's eager face, he knew there was no point in fighting fate. Standing aside, he revealed his creation – hanging his head in shame.

With a gasp, Spirou stepped forward, and carefully picked up the clay artefact, resting it on his palm as though it was an ancient jewel.

"Oh, Spip," he whispered, delighted. "Did you make this for me?"

Spip nodded.

"It's wonderful!" Spirou cried... flooding the squirrel's heart with happiness. "Come on – we'll put it in the lounge, on the bookshelf. Then everyone can see it."

As the human offered him his shoulder, Spip jumped up onto it – resuming his rightful place. The place he felt blessed to be, and where he would always be, for as long as he lived.

As Spirou placed his new treasure on the bookshelf proudly, Fantasio, who had always had an eye for style, looked at it with some reservation. Or at least, he did ,until his friend explained its origins, and he immediately agreed that it should stay exactly where it was.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Spirou rewarded the squirrel with some fresh hazelnuts – a purchase he had made whilst out on his errand – and set him down on the sofa beside Marsu. The larger mammal was also in a merry mood as he amused himself with a gift from Fantasio: a set of small hula hoops, which he whirled around on his tail at great speed, the occasional delighted "_Houba!_" flying forth from his mouth.

"I'm so glad he likes it," Spip told Marsu. "That means a lot to me."

"And it will mean a lot to him," Marsu answered, still twirling and whirling. "Not only your gift, but that fact that _you_ made it. _You're _the reason why it's so special."

He paused for a moment – the hoops stopping suddenly as the creature contemplated the situation.

"I think you could have given him anything in the world," he concluded. "Even an empty shell from one of those hazelnuts, and nothing more. _Houba_, he'd still treasure it – and you – with all of his heart."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely."

"Why's that?"

Smiling, Marsu tossed the hoops up into the air, and caught them on his tail again, seamlessly and masterfully, much to the squirrel's delight.

"Because, Spip," he went on, "that's what good fathers do."


End file.
